A Tumble Into Love
by ParzivalHallows
Summary: Annie isn't dead. She lives in the house across from Mitchell and George with her abusive fiance, Owen. When one fight between Owen and Annie goes wrong, will Mitchell be able to save her in time before she "falls down the stairs"?
1. Chapter 1

The pillows on the sofa were nice and inviting as a certain black-haired, nicely dressed Irish vampire collapsed onto it. The scent of a new and inviting house invaded his mind as he grinned up at the ceiling. It was a new start, a clean start. He'd finally have something to do other than wallow in self-pity; he'd finally know what it was like to be human. The best part? He wouldn't be doing it alone. He'd made friends with a werewolf (who would have guessed?) and they both agreed on one thing: they wouldn't let what they were define them. They were going to start a new life for themselves, and this was how they planned to do it:

Move to Bristol in a small, close-knit place that was known as Totterdown. Once they were settled, they'd try to mingle with the humans. As much as the vampire wanted to start this new life right away, the werewolf seemed keen on staying secluded inside the two-story house.

"Mitchell, will you get your lazy ass off the couch and help me with this?" Mitchell let out a long sigh and stretched his already sore limbs. They'd been unpacking for hours now, and what Mitchell really wanted to do most was sleep.

"MITCHELL!"

"Alright, alright!" Mitchell snapped, reluctantly lifting himself off of the couch. He blinked as the curtains were ripped open. "Christ, George," Mitchell groaned, shielding his sensitive eyes from the offending light.

"Oh, sorry," George apologized, shutting the curtains quickly. "Go in the other room then, so I can wipe this windowsill off."

Mitchell glared at the werewolf, but George didn't seem affected by it. When he wanted something done, he was going to get it done. Mitchell let out a disgruntled noise and moved to the kitchen, where there were boxes piled almost to the ceiling. He looked up at it with a completely mortified expression; how could he and George do all of this alone?

As though in answer, the doorbell rang; both Mitchell and George stopped dead. George had his leg against the wall to hold himself steady as he tottered while trying to clean off the upper windowsill. The rag he was holding in his hand slipped out of his fingers and fell on his face. Mitchell had frozen in place from where he had gone to take one of the boxes down. For a moment, all the two of them could do was stare at each other. The doorbell rang again, and both Mitchell and George swooped back into action, almost crashing into each other as they tried to reach the door.

"I'll get it," George said, while at the same time Mitchell tried pushing him out of the way, "no, let me."

For a small moment they struggled at the door, each trying to get a hold on the doorknob, when Mitchell elbowed George in the gut. George let out a grunt of surprised and released his hold on the doorknob, allowing Mitchell to open the door. Standing in front of him were two humans; a male and a female. The male sported his brown hair in front of his face. He looked extremely bored, and Mitchell had an automatic disliking of him.

The girl had her curly hair in a clip, grinning like a buffoon at Mitchell. Her eyes lightened when she saw the vampire, which managed to make Mitchell feel uneasy. Many people believed that vampires could seduce a girl right on sight, but Mitchell called that bull. He'd be laying someone every night if that were true.

"Hello."

Mitchell turned his head and spotted a grumpy looking George, who had obviously recovered from the blow to his gut. George sported a glare at Mitchell before turning to smile at the newcomers. "Who might you… lovely…people be?"

"Well, I'm Annie," said the girl in a bubbly voice. "And this is my fiancé – Owen!" Owen didn't look thrilled to be introduced as thus, but put on a fake smile anyway. "Nice to meet you," he said, shaking both Mitchell and George's hands. He looked at them expectantly.

For a moment George and Mitchell stared back at him, then, with a jump, both realized what Owen was waiting for at the same time.

"Oh!" "Right!" "Yeah!" Owen gave them an odd look at their small outbursts but didn't comment.

"I'm George, this is my friend Mitchell," said George, pushing up his thin glasses. "Yeah," Mitchell agreed in a slightly laughing voice.

"Oh, it's SOO good to meet you!" Annie said, practically bouncing up and down. "We live just across the street there," she turned and pointed to the house directly across from them. "We just wanted to stop by and see if you needed help with anything!"

Owen didn't look pleased by this statement at all, and both Mitchell and George picked up instantly on the fact that the idea must have been Annie's.

"That's very kind of you," started George, "but we don't really –"

"I think it would be great if you could help," Mitchell cut in smoothly, shooting a look at George. For a moment there was silence, then Annie cleared her throat. "That's good! Now um… do you want us to… you know… come inside to help? Or…?"

"OH! Yeah, yeah, be our guest," Mitchell said, stepping out of the doorway so that the two could walk in. George gave them a very false smile which turned into a venomous glare at George as the couple walked into the kitchen to grab some boxes.

"What are you doing?" George hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. Mitchell gave him a disbelieving look. "What does it look like I'm doing? Making friends."

"We don't need friends!"

Mitchell opened his mouth to retaliate but at that moment Annie walked in. "Alright," she said, "I was thinking maybe we could start with the downstairs, and then work our way up. I can make a list if you want!" she said enthusiastically. From behind her, Owen appeared, carrying one of the boxes. He rolled his eyes at the two of them, which practically stated that this enthusiasm was most likely a daily occurrence.

"Er, sure… that's fine then…"

"Yay!" Annie bounced around on the balls of her feet, looking around the room. "Alright, I think we should start…. over theeeere," she pointed to the opposite side of the room, where the sofa (and nothing else) was. "Maybe we should put the TV opposite the sofa! Oh this is going to be so fun!" she exclaimed, pushing past the two of them as Owen went back into the kitchen to grab another box. George plastered another fake smile on his face as he turned to Mitchell, "_This is going to be so much fun_!" He imitated, clearly not at all excited by this statement.

Mitchell shook his head, "No, she never said 'much'," and then left George to think about what he'd said. He knew how much it would tick George off, and he was right. George huffed and walked into the kitchen, almost crashing into Owen. "Sorry," he muttered, but Owen shrugged it off. "It's alright."

George looked after Owen in confusion, as though wondering why Owen hadn't snapped, then turned to Mitchell. "He's a nice bloke."

Mitchell didn't share George's opinion. "If you say so, I don't buy it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything.

…

Mitchell blinked at the sight before him. Gone was the cold, damp openness of the house. Occupying it was colorful décor, comfortable sofas, rows of music albums (George had pitched in with that part), and just a pleasant air. It was definitely homey.

"Huh," said George, striding into the room and stopping next to Mitchell. "Who knew she could do it?"

"I did," Mitchell replied cheekily, earning an eye-roll from George. His face turned serious, "you know, she's done all of this for us and we didn't even know each other."

"Mm," George was cradling a mug of coffee, clearly not listening to a word Mitchell was saying.

"So, I was thinking, why not invite her to dinner one time… or out for tea!" he added hurriedly as George spit out his coffee. George shot a glare at him, "NO."

"Aw come on –why not?"

"We. Are. Not. Associating. With… _them_!" George said, his voice going high. Mitchell stared at him.

Complete silence.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," George finally said, looking like he was in pain.

"I don't see what's so wrong about getting to know her – them –" said Mitchell with a frown. George gave him a blunt look. "They're humans," said George in a long-suffering voice. "We're different, we're a –"

"A danger to them?" Mitchell cut in quietly, and George fell silent. He opened his mouth as though he were going to say something, then snapped it shut and sighed.

"Fine."

"Fine?" Mitchell tried to hide a victorious smirk.

"Fine!" George practically growled. "Don't expect me to get all matey with them any time soon though."

Mitchell laughed. "_'All matey'_?" he shook his head, chuckling, "and what happened to Owen being a nice bloke, eh? Admit it! You like them. I personally don't see anything wrong with h-them."

George turned to him, looking as though he knew something Mitchell didn't. "What?"

"I know what this is," George breathed, a smirk finding its way onto his face. Mitchell scowled, "What!" he repeated.

"You fancy Annie."

"What?" Mitchell exclaimed, "Pff- don't be ridiculous. I do not… _fancy… _Annie. She's just a very nice girl who – cut that out!" he demanded as George started laughing. "I don't fancy her! Besides, she's engaged," he added dryly. "In case you've forgotten."

George let out a sigh, "Ah, the one who got away, huh?"

Mitchell rolled his eyes and turned away, "Whatever, continue on with your delusions then. Pff, Annie…" Mitchell murmured, shaking his head. He didn't fancy Annie! He respected her, that was all. Sure, she was attractive – very attractive – and _oh_ if only George could hear his thoughts… he'd be teasing Mitchell till the end of the world.

George had strolled into the kitchen and was raiding the refrigerator. "Oi, Mitchell get in here."

Mitchell let out a loud (rather childish) groan and followed after George. He didn't want to be in George's vicinity again – he'd been planning on going up to his room and laying down. He didn't fancy Annie… did he? No, no he didn't. It would be absurd! He just met her… still…

"What," he said in a rather cross voice. George favored him with another smirk, "still sour, are we?"

He shut up at Mitchell's glare, and turned back to the fridge.

"What's wrong with this?"

Mitchell blinked, looking at the open fridge. "What do you mean?"

"What is wrong with it!"

"There's no food?"

"Exactly! What are you going to do about it?"

"Wha – n – _ME!?" _he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Why me!?"

"You're right," said George in a serious voice, a frown on his face. "Maybe we can get that little lovely girl of yours to do the shopping for us –"

"Stop that!" Mitchell snarled. "She's not my girl, and she never will be. It's not going to happen, okay?" he added spotting the look that George was giving him.

"Cause she's taken. Don't worry, you'll find other girls," said George unsympathetically, turning back to the fridge and frowning.

"George," said Mitchell, suddenly laughing, "I'm not interested in girls!"

"Oh!" Mitchell realized his mistake just as George used 'the tone'. "Oh, I didn't know you batted for the other team, my mistake –"

He was abruptly cut off as Mitchell shoved him playfully. "You know exactly what I meant," he said, "I'm dangerous."

"So am I."

"Only on a full moon!" Mitchell argued. "For me it's –"

"Alright, alright," George cut him off. "So what do you want for dinner? Because if you want something you're going to have to get it yourself."

"Charming," said Mitchell with a roll of his eyes. "Have you no tact at all?"

George stared at him. "Pizza."

"No, I'm Mitchell."

"No – you - GAH, PIZZA. LET'S – HAVE - PIZZA."

Mitchell had to resists bursting into fits of laughter as George's voice hit a high note. "Oooh, well, you should have specified," he chuckled. "You order."

"That's… _fine_," he glared at Mitchell before stalking out of the kitchen.

… **(Owen's POV)**

Owen groaned and leaned his head on the back of the sofa, closing his eyes and trying to block out the sound of his fiancé's voice.

"Owen, are you listening to a word I'm saying?" he heard, and opened his eyes back open, looking at Annie in a bored manner. "Of course," he said, "invite them to dinner, sure. Can I ask, when?" he demanded, straightening up. "No, no, a better question – why? Why even bother? Honestly, Annie! You're too… _good! _They didn't even ask for our help, and they could have managed without your constant babbling on about 'where should this go' and 'oh what about over here'!?" his voice had grown to a near shout, and he did a crude imitation of Annie's voice.

Annie stared at him, her mouth open. "I'm just trying –"

"No, you're not Annie!" growled Owen, standing up from the couch. "You're not 'just trying'. This is what you _do!" _he exclaimed, standing right in front of her. Maybe, maybe if he just yelled she'd _finally _get it through her head. He was doing this for her own good after all, he didn't _like _hurting her, but sometimes she just asked for it.

"You throw yourself onto someone and then force yourself into their life!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Like me! I would have been just fine without you, and now you're leading on that – that – guy –"

"I am not!" Annie's voice had lost all chipper and had a hard edge. Her face was that of utter fury, and Owen was a bit satisfied to see tears moisten her eyes. Maybe he was finally getting through to her. Christ knows he'd tried enough times. "How dare you – why would –"

Owen cut her off. "Christ Annie, would you listen to yourself?! You're pathetic, you're clingy! You're just… you can't stand to be next to someone without having to fling yourself on them. They didn't want help, they didn't need your help! Then you go and drag me along like some kind of a puppy –"

"It's called being a good fiancé –"

"THAT IS NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT!" Owen shouted. She would never stop bringing up his engagement, and oh why had he even done it? He loved her, sure, but he didn't want to be stuck with her. They'd been better off as boyfriend and girlfriend, when they could leave each other and then get back together in a week. That's how he _liked _it. He got bored too easily. He shouldn't have tried settling down, least of all with Annie.

"THEN WHAT IS IT ABOUT, OWEN?" her voice was just as loud, but had a desperate edge to it. "TELL ME!"

Owen scoffed and turned away, before he said anything he regretted, but Annie had caught his arm and pulled him back around. "ANSWER ME!"

"YOU WANT ME TO ANSWER YOU? DO YOU _REALLY _WANT ME TO ANSWER YOU?"

Annie's lip trembled, and Owen gave her a vicious smile. "I thought not. Now leave me alone," he growled, tearing his arm out of her grip. He sank back down on the couch and clicked on the telly, glaring at the screen and trying to ignore the muffled sobs. Why did this always happen? There were times when he could kill her, he swore to it.

Just one of these days… he shook his head at the thought, feeling a headache building. One of these days he'd snap, and he knew that Annie would be the one to pay the price. His life was so screwed up… he should never have gotten himself mixed up with Annie. It was her own fault! She drew him in! It wasn't like he forced himself on her, she _wanted_ to be with him and now he was stuck with her. He loved her… but he didn't.

He couldn't.

It just wasn't his nature.

Owen groaned and rubbed his head. This whole week had just been a mess, especially with those new guys moving the house next to them. He really needed to get pissed at a pub somewhere.

…

_Well, my writer's block is forcing me to run blindly into words and these are the ones that I picked out… eek, I hope it wasn't too bad! Thanks for the support though guys, seriously. You're the reason that I wrote (and will write) another chapter. Hope you enjoyed this one. _


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry for the late update guys. There's just so much going on, and I'm not joking when I say that there will be very slow updates. I hope you guys will stick through the end with me though (: I hope this chapter isn't a disappointment for you guys. **

…

Mitchell felt very pleased with himself; he'd managed to land both himself and George a job at the local hospital. Granted, it wasn't the best job in the world, but it was enough to get them through however long they planned on staying there. Mitchell hoped that it would be a long time; he really enjoyed staying it Totterdown. The neighbors were nice (or at least the ones he managed to associate himself with), Annie was hanging out with them more (though Mitchell noticed that she seemed especially sad lately), and George was finally managing to settle down.

He was on his way home when he spotted Annie sitting outside her door on the concrete landing. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and was shaking slightly. Mitchell hesitated for a moment; he could sense from back here that something was wrong, but was it really his place to try and comfort her? Where was her fiancé?

Cautiously, he approached where she was sitting. She didn't seem to notice him until he started talking, "Annie?"

She jumped a mile and turned to look at him. Mitchell couldn't help but to notice her eyes were puffy and swimming with tears, though none had fallen. "Annie, are you okay?" It was obvious that she wasn't, but it was the civil question to ask. Annie quickly turned away and wiped furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt before turning back to him, plastering a fake smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm okay. What are you doing here, Mitchell?"

"I was just headed on my way home," he liked the word 'home', "and I saw you sitting here. Did something happen?"

Annie bit her lip as she looked at him, blinking rapidly as though trying to get rid of her tears. "No… nothing happened, nothing at all. I'm fine."

He noticed that as she said this she clutched her arms tighter around her rib cage, causing her to wince slightly. Mitchell frowned; something definitely wasn't right here. It was obvious she was not only sad, but also in pain. Physical pain.

"Annie… what happened to your ribs?"

"What? Nothing happened." She glanced down at her ribs, her arms firmly wrapped around them. Mitchell mentally sighed. "Alright… if you need me, my house is always welcome. You can come now if you want, George is going to cook something. Just went shopping for food." He shot her a friendly smile, and her lips tugged upwards. "George is cooking?"

"I'm scared of his cooking too," Mitchell said teasingly, "it's not just you. I think you should come help before he burns down the house."

Annie took a deep breath, looked at her house, then back to Mitchell. She was giving him a very sad smile. "Maybe some other time, okay? My fiancé is cooking, and I think he'd be upset if I leave…" she swallowed hard, and Mitchell glanced downwards, feeling slightly disappointed. "Okay, some other time then. Bye Annie," he gave her another smile before starting to head to his house across the street.

"Wait!" he stopped and turned at her call. She bit her lip again, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Annie. It's not something you can control."

For some reason her face clouded over at his words, and Mitchell wondered if he said the wrong thing. Mitchell looked up as he heard a shout coming from inside the house, and Annie sighed. "That's Owen calling me for dinner. I'd better go inside. Nice seeing you again, Mitchell!"

"Nice seeing you too, Annie," said Mitchell, trying not to show his disappointment. He wasn't sure why he'd wanted her to eat dinner with him so badly, and why Owen made him so mad. Was George right? Did he fancy Annie? No, no he didn't. He liked her as a friend. She was a nice person. That was all.

Mitchell sighed and watched as Annie hurried inside the house, one hand still on her ribs. Something was wrong, and he was going to find out what it was.

…

George glanced up, concerned about his friend. Mitchell was picking at his food, his eyes clouded as though he was far away from the kitchen.

The silence stretched, in which George ate and Mitchell twirled his fork, before George let out an irritated sigh. "Okay, tell me what's bothering you."

Mitchell looked up from his food, eyes wide. "What?"

"Something is wrong. You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The one where your head isn't where it's supposed to be!"

"What are you, my mother?" Mitchell snapped moodily. George frowned at him. "No, I'm a friend who cares about you."

Mitchell stared at him for a moment, before letting his eyes drop back to his food. "I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"Owen – Annie – I don't know who. Something is wrong."

George rose a single eyebrow, "and you would know how…?"

"I can sense it… I don't know how, but I can. She's… well he… they aren't happy together!" Mitchell snapped, dropping his fork and leaning back in his seat irritably. "She deserves better."

It was honestly funny how oblivious Mitchell could be to his own feelings, though the situation at hand wasn't funny at all. "Better like you?"

"No!" Mitchell snapped, "how many times do I have to tell you that I don't fancy Annie?"

"At least one more," George replied smoothly, "the more you deny it the more I believe it."

Mitchell glared at him, "I don't like this topic. Pick a new one."

"You pick a new one!"

"I don't want to!"

"I don't want to either!"

"Well – too bad!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Would you like me to reply 'no' and turn this into a proper five year old argument?"

Mitchell sighed, "I have too much on my mind."

"Tell me about it," George muttered, though he wasn't sure if Mitchell heard him or not. Mitchell stared at the wall for a moment, before getting up from his seat. "I'm not too hungry."

"But it took hours to make this!" George protested to Mitchell's retreating back. Mitchell didn't reply, and George could hear his footsteps stomping to his room. The door slammed shut.

…

Annie rubbed at her sore ribs, something that Owen was quick to notice. "Stop milking it," he snapped, and Annie let her hand fall to her side, "and do the dishes!"

Annie let her head drop as she walked into the kitchen, a little glad that she was getting away from her fiancé. Today had been a pretty bad day. Maybe Owen was right and she was a good-for-nothing needy thing. Maybe it was time she stopped denying it, because when she did that Owen got angry; and when Owen got angry, people got hurt. She gently lifted her shirt up and felt a tear leak from her eye when she saw the ugly bruise on her ribs; unable to look at it any longer, she let the shirt fall back over the bruise and wiped away her tear. She shouldn't cry, Owen didn't like it when she cried, but fucking hell did she feel like crying. She wanted to cry more than anything. She wanted to just let go of everything, but she loved Owen, as much as he hurt her. A part of her hated him, and knew that what he was doing to her was wrong, but the other part loved him. He was still the Owen that she'd fallen in love with, very deep down and under the many bottles of whisky he drank every night. She couldn't give up on him, because what would that say about her? She had to be strong for the both of them. Drinking was Owen's way of dealing with things, Annie knew that more than anybody. She'd been in love with him since they were teenagers after all.

Drinking made him weak, but it also made him dangerous. Owen didn't like being weak. That's why he felt like he had to hurt Annie, or hurt something that got in his way, because he didn't like the feeling of being weak and needed to be in control of something. Annie knew that was his way of dealing with things, and it would be selfish of her to leave him in such a state. Besides, she didn't think she could even if she wanted to.

"Annie get a fucking move on!"

Annie closed her eyes and counted to five, trying to calm herself down. "I'm coming!" she called in what she hoped was a cheerful, steady voice. It took her a moment to take control of her body, but Owen's voice called her again, seemingly angry this time. She took a deep breath before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Owen looked her over, eyes hungry as he raked her body. Annie felt a shiver run through her spine, and when Owen beckoned her over, she could barely feel her feet as she walked towards him. As soon as she was next to him he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto the couch with him. Annie was too frightened to pull away from him, and tried not to shudder as she felt Owen's breath on her ear, a hand moving her hair back off of her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her.

"You know I love you, don't you?"

His voice was slurred, and she could smell the alcohol coming off of him. When she didn't answer right away, he tightened his grip on her, almost painfully. "Y-Yes."

His voice suddenly took on a dangerous tone. "Good. Don't forget it."

…

**Okay, I really believe that this chapter is horrible. I'm sorry if my beliefs are true, because I hate making my readers read something that disappoints them. Hopefully this is not the case, but I apologize if you don't like the chapter. **


	4. Chapter 4

**So remember when I said I wasn't joking about the late update? Please don't kill me, I haven't gotten my muse back for this so if this chapter sucks I'm really really sorry. I do love a good Annie/Mitchell story however, and this one is fun to write, so bear with me while I attempt to get them back in character. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews!**

…

"Did you get pissed last night?" George asked the bleary-eyed, tangled hair walking mess that walked in. "You look terrible."

Mitchell rubbed a hand over his face, "I'm just tired."

"You're 'just tired'?" George asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've got a lot on my mind!" Mitchell defended himself, and George rolled his eyes.

"Is it Annie again? I mean –"

"Not everything in my life centers around Annie," Mitchell growled, then stopped. He let out a huge sigh and flopped onto the couch, head in his hands. "Oh, George. I think you're right."

"Of course you do, I'm always right…. What about?"

"Annie, Owen, all of it. I wish I could sleep it off or something."

"Still convinced you have a coffin up there, by the way," George said in a matter-of-fact tone. "What do you think Annie would do if she saw that?"

"What would any normal person do… and I don't have a coffin!"

"Riiiight."

"George!"

"Alright, alright," George sat down on the couch next to him. "I have the feeling we're about to have some sort of talk."

"I think something's wrong. I don't know why."

"Do you think it's one of your vampire…things…?"

Mitchell shrugged, "I honestly don't know. It's weird, I've had the feeling before but it's always been about me, not someone else."

George looked like he had a hard time containing laughter at that.

"What?" Mitchell glared at him, "oh don't start."

"Sorry, sorry, you were saying?" asked George, leaning forward so he could cover his mouth with his hand without looking too suspicious. Mitchell knew what he was doing, but decided to ignore it anyway in favor of continuing. "I passed by her yesterday –"

"Wait you went to her house?"

"No!...I just sort of saw her sitting there and… stopped to say hello. Is it that big a deal?"

"No, if the word 'stalker' doesn't mean anything to you…" said George with an eyeroll.

"Oh please. I'm not _stalking _Annie."

"Right, just her relationship."

"I'm not stalking her relationship either! I just… oh would you stop looking at me like that!" Mitchell snapped as George hurriedly tried to hide a smirk. "Can we just be grown up about this?" Mitchell knew it was rich coming from him about being mature, but he really wanted to get his point across.

"I'm just worried about her… I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen to her, you know what I mean?"

"I think you should just ask her out to dinner," said George, to the shock of Mitchell. "You want me to ask her on a date. While she's living with her _fiancé _I might add."

"You don't have to make it a date," said George as though this were obvious, biting a fingernail. "Oh look at me, I'm giving relationship advice…"

"Yeah, maybe coming to you for advice on that particular area wasn't the best i- I mean, uh, not that you're not experienced or anything," added Mitchell hurriedly at the glare George sent him, who just rolled his eyes at the 'save'.

"Well since I'm so bad at giving relationship advice, why don't you just call one of those date lines and see what they say about it," said George, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

"They get you dates, they don't give you advice," Mitchell called after him, grinning despite himself.

"How would you know?" George countered, "called one before?"

"Too many times," answered Mitchell, causing an amused snort to come from the kitchen area. "Listen, if this is that big of a deal to you then maybe you should just go over there."

"You think so?" asked Mitchell, tilting his head as he considered the idea.

"Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, don't do that. Definitely don't do that."

"Why?" asked Mitchell, now in complete confusion. "George stop not making sense."

"I can't stop not making sense if I'm not making sense already, or, already not making sense, oh shut up you know what I meant," George snapped at the sound of Mitchell's barely contained laughter.

"Well, what did you mean then?"

"We're running out of groceries again… you're going to need to run out," George said in a distracted tone, looking inside the refrigerator.

"What?" Mitchell got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, looking unimpressed. "I just got some like yesterday."

"Three days ago, and it's not my fault you're always eating. You don't even need to eat – look, you're doing it again!" George snapped in disbelief as Mitchell grabbed a muffin.

"It was begging me to eat it," said Mitchell in a serious tone. "Besides, I'm not the only one who likes to eat."

"I'm a werewolf, there's a difference."

"What does being a werewolf have to do with food?" Mitchell asked with a frown, taking a bite into the muffin. It was very tasty.

"Because my metabolism is like… or hunger… I just – I just need more to eat, that's all." George defended himself, and Mitchell rolled his eyes, finishing the muffin in a few swift bites. "Whatever, I thought we were talking about Annie."

"We were," said George, "and then you switched onto my topic of conversation."

"So what, you were just going to ignore me?" demanded Mitchell, suddenly looking hurt. George looked up at the expression on his friend's face, "Oh no, no I wasn't ignoring you. I was just… enjoying your voice as background noise, that's all."

Mitchell let out a loud groan, "that's the last time I come to you for dating advice… which this isn't even supposed to be about dating, _you _made it about dating!"

"Now he catches on…" George mumbled.

"I wish I could talk to her, maybe I should go over –"

"Don't do that!" George snapped, "What if Owen's there?"

Mitchell stared at him, "why should I care about Owen?"

"Well, think about it, you're hanging around his fiancé all the time and he's bound not to like that too much. So if you start showing up on his doorstep, what do you think he's going to do?"

"Tell me off? George I'm a ninety year old vampire, I don't think a plain bloke like Owen is going to hurt me. And he's definitely not going to scare me away," Mitchell said firmly.

"Well, what about Annie?"

Mitchell blinked at him, "what about her?"

"You said you didn't think there was something right in there relationship right? Why take stupid chances… beside the fact that you take stupid chances too many times for me to count…"

Mitchell looked about to argue, but then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess you're right. I hate that you're right, but you are all the same."

George frowned at the forlorn look on his best friend's face. "Oh come on, don't go looking like that. You'll find a way to get her," he said in a tone that didn't fool Mitchell. He knew as well as Mitchell that it was probably a loss cause. "You'll just have to… figure something out. Oh, why did you have to come to me for this?" asked George, his tone getting considerably higher.

Mitchell managed a half smile, "I knew it would annoy you."

…

Annie sat outside, looking up at the stars in the sky. Owen was passed out drunk up in their bedroom. He'd originally fallen to the floor, but Annie took the time (despite the pain in her ribs) to pull him up and into the bed. Her gaze traveled to where she knew that Mitchell and George lived, and she wondered what the two were doing. Were they asleep too? She wouldn't be very surprised if that was the case, it was almost eleven after all. She let out a long sigh and tried not to think about the past few days… the past few years, really.

Annie reflected on the day before, when Mitchell had found her crying outside her house. She could tell by his face he knew there was something wrong, that she was hiding something, but he was respectful enough to leave it at that. Annie looked at Owen, and sometimes found herself wishing it was Mitchell, as horrible a thought as that was. Mitchell was kind, understanding, and he seemed to care about Annie even though he'd only just met her. George was nice too, but Annie could tell he was reluctant to be friends with her and Owen – whether that was a person grudge or he had other reasons, Annie was unsure. Still, it was obvious how close they were, and Annie found herself wishing that her and Owen were that close.

She rubbed her rib without even realizing it at the thought of Owen, and she frowned. She knew that lately she'd had thoughts of Mitchell rather than Owen, and it was unfair to him. He loved her, he told her that, and she loved him. She'd love him until the end of the world, but something about Mitchell drew her in. There was something about him, like some secret, that made her want to find out more about him. She'd love to invite him out to dinner, or over for tea, but the thought of what Owen would do when he found out was enough to frighten her out of asking. She had been worried when she'd talked to him yesterday, but luckily Owen hadn't seen Mitchell. It was also nice of Owen to cook dinner. She would have cooked it, but Owen seemed to be trying to make up for how he'd treated her before. True, he may have gotten drunk again that same night, but there were those kind moments that made Annie want to stay, because she wanted to be around for those kind moments. She wanted to be around for the best of him, even though the best could sometimes be the worst. Maybe she was being selfish, or maybe she was being incredibly stupid, but in her heart she was still in love with Owen. These thoughts about being with Mitchell instead had shocked her, but she knew that they could never be together. Not while Owen was there.

She sat outside for at least a half an hour when she decided to go to bed, wanting nothing more than to feel Owen's arms around her, even though she knew that they wouldn't be there. She could always pretend, like she did every night.

She wanted to get out, but her heart wouldn't let her. Or her guilt.


End file.
